


Bite the Bullet

by Miss_Katherine (for_steggy)



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Awkward Romance, Blood and Injury, Dugan's a menace, F/M, Gen, Pining, Some feels, lightest possible T
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:35:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22301962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/for_steggy/pseuds/Miss_Katherine
Summary: Peggy hadn't exactly been expecting to extract a bullet from the Captain's side tonight, but here they were.
Relationships: Howling Commandos & Steve Rogers, Peggy Carter & Howling Commandos, Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Steggy
Comments: 10
Kudos: 80





	Bite the Bullet

The last of the Hydra men were dead, their bodies strewn haphazardly on the ground, and silence settled for a moment even louder than the sounds of labored breathing.

The men took account of their wounds as they moved around without meeting each other’s eyes, ignoring the way their hands shook and swearing just to say something. The Captain stood by surveying the scene with a solemn look on his face. One by one he made his way to each man, not saying a word, just giving them a firm clasp on the shoulder. It seemed to break something. 

Dugan let out a gruff noise. Gabe smiled and it didn't reach his eyes. Dernier opened his mouth, but instead of the usual slew of French, a heavy sigh escaped. Morita had a suspicious gleam in his eye before digging into a pocket and opening a flask. Faslworth cleared his throat and looked away. Bucky—Bucky had that far away look. His haze broke, but the blank expression didn’t.

No one said anything. They didn't have to.

Steve eyed them, mouth set, eyes serious, and when he finally turned to Peggy she could feel the full weight of responsibility in that look. It said, _this is all I can do for them. And it’s not enough._

It was true that he couldn't unburden them all of this dreadful weight around their necks—only winning the war could do that—but what the Captain did _was_ enough to keep them going. Enough to preserve their sanity.Sometimes Peggy wondered if Steve knew just what a difference he made, not to the war effort, not as a symbol, but just to these men. This little group that at any moment threatened to fall apart.

As she watched him, she suspected he didn’t.

*

Eventually camp was set up in a clearing and the men sat around the fire. All were present aside from the Steve, who had gone into his tent some time before to prepare a plan of action for the next day. Even without his immediate presence, it gave a sense of comfort to know that their leader had things under his watchful eye.

Soon they settled in, and the atmosphere turned more comfortable as stories were shared of life back home. Half didn’t even know if their families were still alive — and that was the worst part, the not knowing if there was anyone to go home to — but while each spoke they could stand to feel that nagging, clawing sensation inside their guts just to remember what it was like _before._

Peggy sat silently with the rag-tag group, but her thoughts kept drifted back to it’s missing member. Steve was shouldering more than he let on, and it appeared that no one else really seemed to notice besides Bucky, who had more than enough of his own troubles to deal with at the moment.

She knew it was skirting a fine line to be the Captain’s confidant, but she couldn't help but think that today hadn't been easy for any of them, and as apparent as that was for the Commandos Peggy knew that the Steve had been hit the hardest. It was enough, she reasoned, to let him know that she was there for him, and leave it at that.

She weighed her options, but despite her better judgement the unruly organ in her chest won out; she decided to check on him.The chorus of an old number was sung out into the night, and she made her exit with the crescendo of Dugan’s inebriated voice singing _The Star Spangled Show_ theme song **.**

Moving through the trees she came to stand outside the tan canvas. The flickering light of a lamp could only just be seen through the thick fabric.

“Captain?” she asked softly.

No response came.

“Steve?”

There was a rustling. “Uhh...” 

“May I come in?”

Silence.

Her mind started to race. Perhaps it had been a grievous misstep to come here—inappropriate, although there had been nothing untoward in her intentions. He wouldn't flat out turn her away, Peggy knew. She would simply find a way to turn this into a tactical question about tomorrow and save them both embarrassment—

“Agent Carter, could it wait ’till morning?”

That didn't sound right at all. She pushed the flap open.

Peggy stopped in her tracks as Steve startled from where he lay crouched in the corner bare to the waist, a grotesque bullet wound in his stomach.“I’m just waiting for it to heal,” he explained quickly at the shocked look on her face.

Peggy gaped for about another half a second more before automatically flying into action. “Is the bullet still inside?” she questioned.

He looked sheepish. She frowned in disapproval.

“Luckily I’m trained for just this sort of contingency,” she assured him. “Sort of.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Agent Carter, it’s fine,” he insisted, “it’ll heal up soon.”

In all honesty Peggy didn’t blame him for resisting. Digging a bullet out was a bastard. However, she pressed on with a determined look, and his posture slackened as he resigned himself to the situation.

“Just a moment,” she told him, and slipped out of the tent. As she rushed about gathering supplies the panic was steadily rising in her, but she quickly scolded herself back into composure before reappearing in the tent with Monty’s medic bag, a bottle of whisky, and a piece of decidedly peach fabric in tow.

She noticed the blush staining Steve’s cheeks and looked down in confusion at her hand. When she realized what he was staring at, she had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. “Sorry, but it’s the only clean linen I could scrounge up,” she explained. “Falsworth seems to have used up all the rags and cotton on Gabe and Dugan yesterday.” It didn't seem to go a long way in making him feel any better.

She sat on the ground beside him, quickly arranging supplies. When she had the pack all laid out and the tools disinfected, she doused the bloomers in whisky before beginning to wipe at the wound. It was healing too fast; she would have to get it out soon or not at all.

When she looked up to grab hold of the pliers, Peggy found Steve watching her. “Have I got something on my face,” she asked, bent over.

“Huh?”

“You’re staring.”

“Oh,” he fumbled, and his arm awkwardly rose to scratch the back of his head. “No…it’s just that you seem to know what you’re doing.” 

She smiled to herself. Truthfully, it would be best for all involved if he stayed distracted for the next part. “Well,” she said easily, “I’m no medic, but I have dealt with a bullet hole or two in my day. That, and Monty is too drunk to operate on a loaf of bread at the moment.”

“When?” Steve asked, disregarding her flimsy attempt to lighten the tension. “Have you dealt with bullet wounds, I mean.”

“Germany.” He winced slightly as she slid into the wound, deep. “It was an extraction. I managed to get Erskine out in time, but not without getting two bullets lodged in my shoulder.” He let out a grunt as she hit metal. “Luckily he patched me up on the run—and with worse means than this.”

“Erskine huh?” He might have been genuinely surprised, but she couldn’t tell while his face was scrunched up and his voice was coming out in a pant.

She made a noise of affirmation. “I paid attention.”

Peggy prayed she had payed attention. She _had_ been bleeding out at the time, after all.

Once there was a steady grip on the bullet she started to pull out. Steve tried his best to stay still, but it couldn’t have been easy—the thing was dragging against the torn flesh trying to heal itself back together. She was essentially having to rip it apart again.

“Sorry,” she huffed out as she gave another particularly brutal tug.

“S’okay,” he assured her gruffly, but his cold sweat told otherwise.

The bullet finally popped out and made a thudding noise as it dropped on the ground. Peggy sat back, relieved and exhausted.

Steve picked it up and looked at it. “Damn.”

“Language, Captain,” she admonished and wearily wiped the sweat from her brow.

He smiled, looking utterly wrecked. When he made move to sit up she put a hand up in protest. “We’re not done with you just yet.”

She wiped over the spot again, and when it came away she stared in astonishment. The hole looked about half the width of her pinky.

Steve noticed her amazement, and she looked at him as if to confirm that he was seeing it too. “Told you it would heal up soon,” he said with a shrug.

“Yes. Well. It was a good thing I got it out when I did or you’d still have that lodged inside you,” she gestured to the crumpled bit of mettle he was still holding.

Seeming to think on that statement a moment, Peggy asked, “This hasn't happened before, has it?”When he didn't say anything she sighed.

Now that there was no gaping wound to handle, Peggy realized at seemingly the same moment as Steve did that she was in his tent—and he was bare from the waist up. They both blushed and stood. He looked around for something to cover himself with.“Uh,” he said eloquently.

“Here,” she handed him a shirt that was sitting bunched at her feet and he shrugged it on. Peggy also remembered just then that she was still holding a rather pink, albeit blood stained undergarment in her hand, and quickly hid it behind her back.

Steve averted his eyes with a stiff nod. “Thank you, Agent Carter.” 

The tent rustled awkwardly against the wind.

After a moment he recalled himself. “Oh, uh, what was it that you needed?”

“Nothing,” Peggy said, suddenly caught off guard. “I just…I wanted to see if you were alright,” she finished gently.There were so many excuses she could have easily used. And yet.

“Oh.” He seemed to slacken. 

“I know today wasn't easy,” she explained, “not for any of us. And I…I know that sometimes things are difficult when you’re the one in charge—that there’s a tendency to feel responsible even for what is out of your control. Sometimes it helps to…” 

Peggy dared a hesitant glance at Steve, only to see his eyes trained on her, a soft smile on his lips.

They were on the edge of something, she knew. They had been for a long time. However, it wouldn't do to fraternize.But that word seemed to describe something fleeting—a distraction, a meaningless romp. As she looked at Steve, Peggy knew without a doubt: he was sure.

So was she.

He inched closer in the small tent, their feet almost touching. Her heart beat loudly in her chest. She was convinced he could hear it.

His was voice was low. “Agent Carter—“

“I think you should probably call me Peggy right now,” she told him.

“Ok,” he nodded, and started to softly lean in.

Before either of them could meet their destination however, Dugan stumbled in loudly. He stopped short at the scene in front of him—Steve’s hands loose at her forearms, her holding a crumpled undergarment, their noses inches apart. It was a damning picture if ever there was one.

Steve pulled away like he’d been shocked by lightning, and Peggy’s hand flew to her forehead. “For heaven’s sake!” she growled.

“Now, now,” Dugan slurred, “don’t get your panties in a twis—“ Peggy shoved him sprawling out into the snow before he could finish the sentiment. From outside his voice rang out again, far less jovial, “Well, it’s about time!”

She turned to Steve who had a hand clamped firmly over his eyes. “We’ll never be able to explain that one away, will we?” she asked after a moment.

His hand fell away and he smiled ruefully at her. “Not a chance.”

They stayed looking at each other.

This was what was left without the war, without the fighting, the official titles or the sheen of professionalism. Not Captain Rogers and Agent Carter. Just Steve and Peggy.

In that moment Peggy couldn't help but feel that _that_ was worth the wait. That sacred, simple togetherness that couldn't be afforded now, in the midst of all of this. In that split second she made a decision.

“Goodnight, Steve,” she said quietly, and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Rest well. You deserve it.”

She left him with a hand pressed to his cheek and his eyes following her as she slid back into the cold night air filled with the sounds of drunken men.

Tomorrow was another day. Peggy told herself they had time.


End file.
